Young Writers Society

Your imagery is brilliant in this poem, I really enjoyed it and I could really feel the emotions throughout that the narrator was experiencing.
The emotive language and dialogue that you used really made me feel a sense of sorrow for the narrator and you made it clear how much they loved this creature because of the emotive language.
Enjambment use was really effective and showed a train-of-thought structure which was very good for this type of poem as people relate to it.
The metaphors are also very detailed and allows the reader to truly understand the theme to the poem.

I honestly can't see many areas of improvement, if you keep practicing I'm sure your work will be flawless.
Thank you for the read and I hope this review was helpful

Very, very good! I've never come across a poem that describes the pain so well. Just a suggestion, but I think that if this; "Get up boy!” I bawled. Was maybe changed to;
"Get up boy!" I cried or "Get up boy!" with tears streaming from my eyes. Or maybe combine the two of them. I think it makes it more poetical, more....sad. The readers are better able to put a picture to it. Posting something like this is very brave of you. You most definitely should be a poetry writer. Keep at it!

Hello, it's review time!
I just want to say you are totally brave to be posting a poem like this.
I wouldn't be able to go back into those memories to type this out,
and seeing by the end of the poem, you are happy and well again.
You have a good use of writing and I do not see any grammatical problems so in this case, you are good!
You'll find a new friend soon enough
Happy Writing!

Heya, Kay0rys28! Casanova here to do a review for you! I'll be taking this stanza by stanza, so I hope you don't mind. To the review!

I remember coming back from school.

Waiting for him to show his face

Full of innocence

With a flicker of mischief.

He would tug at my skirt

Telling me all about how he had been a good boy all day

and that how he hankered all day for a game of fetch.

He would tackle me to the ground with those

Muscular forefeet of his.

Barring to let me up,

Without moistening my face with hot saliva.

I reminisce that day.

The day he got ill.

I wept with his head in my lap

My soul wrenched and ached in pointless agony.

The next day,

My young fighter,

Smiled his smile.

Those bold puppy eyes

Ailment to my worn-out eyes.

All was okay.

But that shrewd morning

That dark and dreadful morning.

Everything went wrong.

I had been mugged.

Mugged of my actuality.

My world had been splintered.

My shaft of light,

Cognizance and essence

All gone.

I despised every bit of it.

I stood as unmoving as he

Lay on the grasping green floor

"Get up boy!” I bawled.

No. Not today.

He was defiant.

Lying there

As dead as he could be.

Oh!

How I long to stroke his shaggy coat;

How I long to pat his head and whisper,

"You've been a good boy."

But he isn't coming back now, is he?